


Prompt #8, Car Wreck

by kinneas



Category: Music RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneas/pseuds/kinneas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It’s a lot like those auto insurance commercials where the guy opens his eyes and gazes over the wreckage with a fuzzy filter, except it hurts way, way more. And it’s the middle of the night. And it’s raining. And he’s upside-down.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt #8, Car Wreck

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for the drabble meme at ontd_ai back when it didn't suck. Not really into the K/A but this... wasn't too bad. Completed 7/09.

It’s a lot like those auto insurance commercials where the guy opens his eyes and gazes over the wreckage with a fuzzy filter, except it hurts way, way more. And it’s the middle of the night. And it’s raining. And he’s upside-down.

Blood throbs through Kris’ head as he tries to pull himself from the clutches of unconsciousness. The acrid stench of deployed airbags fills the air, and his own labored breaths reverberate in his ears. They were on the highway near Malibu, the other car had hit them from the side, and… _Adam_.

Adam is passed out in the passenger’s seat, and even in the darkness Kris can see one of his arms dangling limply and the other completely pinned in the caved-in door.

“Hey…” Kris struggles for breath against the constricting seatbelt. “Hey, wake up…”

When Adam stirs, Kris sees the moonlight glimmer over the blood on his friend’s skin, and the haze clouding his mind suddenly dissipates, supplanted with worry. He moves his arm, heavy and weak from the inverse gravity, and shakes Adam gently.

“C’mon,” he says urgently. “Talk to me, man.“

Adam’s eyes slowly open and he gazes around groggily. “Thought…” he starts, voice strained, “I thought you were supposed to be better at driving in the rain, Conway.”

The immediate fear that had swelled in his chest begins to dispel—Adam is okay enough to crack jokes, but they have got to get out of this car. The weight of his own face is tugging against his cheekbones and the seatbelt bites into his chest. It’s getting harder to breathe like this, and Adam is trapped. If the other driver is even conscious, Kris isn’t going to rely on him for help.

“Your phone,” Kris manages, “Gotta call nine-one-one.” His own was on his lap and is long gone.

Adam struggles to lift his free hand to his jeans pocket but hisses in pain. “Can’t,” he gasps, going slack again. “My arm…” He takes a few deep, pained breaths before trying to speak again. “The nav,” he says, “It’s got an emergency button.”

Kris touches his shoulder. “Don’t move anymore. Don’t talk. I’ll get it.” The Fusion’s safety belts are auto-locked, though, and he can’t reach the dash-mounted GPS from this angle. Bracing himself on the roof, he releases his own seatbelt and slides down until he’s flat on his back, the cold rain that’s leaked in soaking his clothes. Even though he hurts pretty much everywhere, the rush of blood out of his head is one of the best things he’s ever felt. He shivers, hand shaking when he stabs the big red button.

“Mr. Allen, 911 Emergency has already been alerted to the collision, and the paramedics are on their way. E.T.A. two minutes,” a female voice says immediately. “Just stay on the line.”

Kris doesn’t bother responding, instead dragging himself over shattered glass and debris to Adam’s side. His chest clenches when the moon and streetlights allow him a decent view; Adam’s cheek is covered in glass cuts, some small shards still embedded in his skin, and the blood is running down his face and into his dark hair. Adam notices his expression—he never did have a poker face.

“S’not like my skin’s my best feature anyway,” Adam slurs. He sounds scared. Kris attempts a smile, brushing a mix of blood and liner from Adam’s eye.

“They look shallow. And what’d I say about talkin’?” He sits awkwardly, drawing his knees up as best he can, delicately cradling Adam’s head and keeping him upright as possible. “Just a few more minutes,” he murmurs. “Just hold on…”

This time when Adam moves his free hand, he’s reaching for Kris’s.

They stay there like that with their hands intertwined, Kris thumbing Adam’s knuckles protectively while they wait, stroking his blood-matted hair as the sirens in the distance grow louder and closer, covering his ears when the jaws of life pry open Kris’s once-pretty car, whispering reassurances as they’re finally extracted from the goddamn thing, and stealing a final glance before they’re both loaded into the ambulances.

They won’t see each other again for hours, but his hand is still warm.


End file.
